Right now I am sitting alone on the cold tile floor of my kitchen. I almost want to lay down, or is it lie down?, and relax here. I don't know why, because it's so cold and hard. The sky is heavy, as if we will soon be delivered a soul-cleansing thinderstorm, but I really think it's just going to snow. I really should be eating, not writing, for my hunger is making me melancholy and strung-out.
Yesterday my wife passed out in the shower. She is okay, buy it was scary, although not as scary as one would expect. Today she is back at work, and I can still see her falling in front of me. She did spend some time on a cold tile floor yesterday, just her time was in the bathroom, not here in the kitchen with me.
I recently read something about how many of the pains in our lives are caused by assumptions. So here I sit, assuming away. I assume that I will be used up and thrown away. Or that those expectations were just BS anyway. I assume that I am being lied to, or at least over-promised.
A friend (or a friend of my wife's or an acquaintance or a former-friend, let me not claim too much of her) just posted a #tbt picture of herself on instagram from 1991. Her hair was still straight then and her beautiful jaw is somewhat softened by the face of a 4-year-old. The caption says something like "#tbt to 1991 during the fall of the Soviet Union. My father and I foraging for food in the Siberian woods." Can you imagine? I can't, but I want to give that beautiful, mysterious woman who is my friend a hug, even though I'm not sure that's what she wants or needs.
Today I will ask those questions. Today I will find out whether I'm really wanted and what it is that is needed. But first, let it all start with lunch, which I am grateful for and lucky to have.
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